


City Blues.

by Significant_Other



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-19 23:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5985037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Significant_Other/pseuds/Significant_Other
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if underground was a bit more metaphorical? What if the Dreemurr crime family ran a famous speakeasy? Booze, swing music and pissed off goats ensue.</p><p>This is based off of the UT Mob/ UT Mafia au. I cant seem to find out who the UT Mob/ UT Mafia au actually belongs to tho so if anyone has any idea tell me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Boxes.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a proofreader, editor or in fact, anyone at all to bounce this off of. So alas despite my best efforts there are probably a lot of errors.

Two men, one car, one box. The men, ecstatic, having finally completed their assignment, Loud having had to spend weeks silent on the stakeout, and drunk out of their minds having also grabbed a sizable amount liquor on their way out. The car, fast both in potential and currently was unassuming, aside from its current velocity. The box, about 4 feet in length and 2 in width, also unassuming. It had a picture of a broken wine glass with a line through it. The word “fragile above it in red letters. Presently the car fishtailed around a corner and there was the sound of shattering glass as the box slammed into the side of the trunk.

Grillby’s was booming. or at least, you might think so. Cars lined the street and coats hung in mounds on the stands by the door. The only person at the bar however was the bartender. This bartender was not Grillby. This bartenders' flames were green. The only patrons were a group of dogs who sat at the far back corner of the room. They were thoroughly engrossed in a card game. Their stall was angled so that from one's seat there you had an uninterrupted view of the entire bar. Two violin cases a cello and an upright bass case lay innocently underneath and around the table. The stall was placed next to a pair of swinging doors that led to the kitchen. Strangely enough the kitchen, unlike the outside bar, was bustling, Food was being fried, baked, and in general brutalized into being, well, bar food. It was a quite substantial kitchen. Nearly double the size of the bar. When done the food was placed into a dumbwaiter and sent… somewhere? As the dumbwaiter opened for another load the sound of distant swing music drifted in.

Two men, one car, one box… a lot of bottles. The men, gone straight passed hammered right by smashed and skidding toward annihilated. The car significantly more beat up than it had been skidded around every corner it came to. The box now more beat up than the car.

Grillby’s Ice Cream Parlor, purveyors of milkshakes, ice cream sodas, root beer floats, and assorted other non-alcoholic beverages was virtually uninhabited. The card game in the corner still went strong. Next to the largest dog empty glasses were piled precariously. Its face was covered in the shrapnel of long dead milkshakes. Its suit, however, was pristine. Grillbys' Speakeasy, purveyors of alcoholic beverages of almost every sort was booming. Monsters of virtually every shape and certainly every color were crowded wall to wall in the music filled cavern. The dancefloor would have been creaking had it not been bedrock. A mezzanine ran around the room and it too was filled with tables and laughter. At the far end of the mezzanine, the crowd reached its highest density. Monsters were pressed shoulder to… well, whatever part of their body stuck out the farthest, around a bar, this one had a Grillby at it. He was juggling 4 flaming cocktail shakers and holding a conversation about the price of gas with a moldbygg who was working the taps.

what was at one point in time two men, now mostly alcohol. Most of a car. Most of a box. Annihilated had been replaced by hungover. Beat up had been replaced by, almost annihilated.

Sans the skeleton sat at a table near the corner of the mezzanine. Papyrus the skeleton sat across from him. His eyes were glued to the dancefloor below. Most specifically on the pink figure singing from the stage. He sighed deeply, the orange glow across his cheeks was probably just the light. Sans’s eyes were also glued on the pink figure. He growled, the blue glow around his eyes probably wasn’t the light. Sans stood up  
“going out for a smoke.”  
“That's nice.” papyrus replied dreamily, eyes still riveted to the stage.  
Sans walked slowly through the throng. He was well known but somehow eyes seemed to slide past him as he weaved his way towards the exit. Passing out into the back rooms he unbuttoned his collar and rolled the sleeves of his blue dress shirt up. His expression drifted to one of irritation to exhaustion as he climbed the stairs to the back entrance. The alley behind grillbys was the location of a great deal of, as one would expect, back alley dealings. At the moment, however, it was vacant, mostly. A gentle snoring drifted from behind a pile of crates. Sans hopped off of the loading dock and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his vest. Placing a menthol between his teeth his eye flashed blue and smoke started drifting from the tip of the cigarette. He breathed deeply and sighed for what must have been the upteenth time that evening. Sans then stepped hastily backwards. So as to avoid the car. Which had come hurtling down the alley passing inches from sans and then coming to a halt at a dumpster. It would have been a screeching halt but the car was doing that anyway. Sans took another pull on his menthol and placed his hands in his pockets. The car door closest to him was kicked off and human stepped out. Or attempted to step out. It started as a step and ended as an education in physics. Sans had assumed that it was impossible to bend that far backwards and manage to recover  
“Evening gents” sans stated placidly. He could see another human following the first  
“yerghefsukcing monsvstesfvsd...monster arnenttcha” the man replied apparently having to choose between standing upright and talking and going halfsies on both.  
“Flattered that you’d notice” sans said reaching up and holding his cigarette between his fingers cupping his elbow in the other hand. The man appeared to be grabbing something from his belt and when his hand returned it held a large knife.  
“cantsssssstandsd fusking monsters” he spat as he brandished the knife, advancing haltingly toward sans.  
“Well that speeds things up doesn't it.” sans smiled as he took another drag on his cigarette.

Burgerpants had not woken up when sans opened the door and had merely rolled over when a car had crashed into a dumpster not 40 feet from his cave of crates. When a blinding blue flash washed over the alley he snorted, rubbed his nose, and continued to sleep.

Sans examined the car. At one point it had been well constructed. He didn’t think it had ever been nice as such. But it certainly had been a decent car. Now however it was missing the front and rear fenders, the windshield and a door. A crashing noise came from the opposite side of the car. Both doors then. Might as well check out the trunk. Maybe there was some booze that was still salvageable. He needed it.  
“Oh joyous day” sans said as he spotted the box. He grabbed the box, pulled and…  
Sans’s mental faculties were not particularly well suited to cope with the contents of the box. He had been hoping for booze. He had been expecting a lot of broken bottles that had once contained booze. When looking at the box the thought, _M_ _aybe there will actually be a human child in this box,_ had been in fact nowhere in his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprised skeletons, goat moms, drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do so hope you all are enjoying this. Then again here you are at the second chapter so I assume I've done something right.

At the moment sans’s mind had a lot in common with the car. In that due to a sudden and unexpected amount of human it was currently having a bad time. The human in question was unconscious as well as bound and gagged. The human in question was covered head to toe in so many bruises, scrapes, lacerations and miscellaneous injuries that it was easier to count the places that had escaped damage rather than trying to identify any single injury. The box had indeed had booze in it and when it had shattered the glass had had nowhere to go.  
Sans was good with kids. He would swear up and down he hated the things and by and large he did. But a lifetime of caring for papyrus had left paternal instincts that would have been sharp, sans however knew that sharp things were seldom good around kids so instead they were just good. As sans brain had been spiraling off into this and several other trains of thought. A great deal of them dedicated to trying to remember who he had bought this pack of cigarettes from. Sans’s paternal instincts had said. “child, injured, help” and gotten on with it.  
So it was that when sans’s mind caught up to them he was running through the hallways of Grillby’s the child held to his chest. “Okay” he thought “okay okay okay who to go to who to go to...Toriel yes! Toriel. The promise, right Toriel right.” As he was remembering how to get to Toriels apartment he found himself there, his eye fading from blue to white. He paused as he tried to figure out how to knock on the door without using his hands. He decided on his head. 

Toriel stood in her kitchen a cookbook laying on the counter beside her. She was reading it intently. Having apparently read it to her satisfaction she closed it. turned to the kitchen and said “Gori dear could you get me the glass pie tin out of the cupboard?” Nothing happened. Toriel waited expectantly, then appeared to remember something.  
“Oh… Right…” Toriel wiped her eyes as tears began to form at their edges.

[BANG] [BANG] [BANG] [BANG][BANG]…

Toriel looked up. Clearly someone was at the door

[BANG] [BANG] [BANG]

She opened the door.  
“Sans dear?” Sans’s head was pulled back in preparation for another swing. As it came forward it no longer encountered the door and instead encountered a Toriel. Stumbling backwards squeaking in surprise she grabbed Sans's shoulders to stop herself from falling.  
“Sans why are you here at this time of n…” Toriel spotted the child.

Toriels mental faculties were not particularly well prepared to cope with the contents of San’s arms. But she did have a maternal instinct that would have been sharp, but sharp things were, as we know, seldom good around kids so instead they were just good.  
So it was that when toriels mind caught up to them she was already pulling a substantial first aid kit out of the bathroom and ordering sans to clear off the table. Sans was obeying enthusiastically. Taking orders from toriel was rather easy and sans had lots of practice at it. Toriel heaved the first aid kit onto a chair and sans heaved the kid onto the table. He placed the kid down as gently as he could while toriel pulled a pair of shears out of the kit. Sans eyed them apprehensively.  
“A naked trauma patient is a happy trauma patient.” toriel muttered. Whether in response to Sans’s look or just to herself it was hard to tell. Sans hissed through his teeth as the child's midriff was exposed. Gouges and cuts ran across the length of their chest and stomach. Toriel finished pulling away the bloodstained clothes and looked up to sans.  
“go stand by the kit and pass me what call for. If we need more of something go get it”  
It was going to be a long night.

 

“SANS WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!” Sans stood in the doorway to their apartment hand poised over where the doorknob would have been. Incandescent with indignation papyrus had beaten him to it and had flung the door wide before sans could touch it.  
“...Out.”  
“THAT IS INSUFFICIENT EXPLANATION FOR YOUR UNACCEPTABLE DISAPPEARANCE LAST NIGHT!” papyrus’s volume normally hovering somewhere around uncomfortably loud was fast approaching permanent hearing damage.  
“Fine fine.” papyruses foot was a blur as it tapped expectantly. “I wa...” Papyrus palmed sans head and lifted him up to eye level.  
“Sans i swear to god if that was going to be a pun…” Sans rolled his eyes  
“Of course i wasn't going to pun. I wouldn’t want tibia rude.” Papyrus dropped sans placed both palms to his eye sockets and made a small deflating noise. Sans caught a glint of pink and his grin grew.  
“Besides it seems as though you wouldn't have wanted me here anyway. Going by the lipstick on your collarbone.” Papyrus’s hands flew to his neck and a bright orange flew to his face. He erupted into a blush almost as resplendent as his annoyance.  
“THATS… YOU… NOT THAT I… NOTHING REALLY...why do you have blood on your shirt?”  
It was Sans turn to be flustered.  
“Uhhh… there was this… not anyone… there was this car and...“ Sans trailed off. He and papyrus eyed each other. Each knew that to get the other to talk that they would have to talk themselves. Papyrus sighed.  
“Well let's move this inside. We can trade stories once I heat up some spaghetti.”  
Sans rolled his shoulders as some of the tension left them.  
“Sounds good to me”

 

The house looked mostly fine. But as one approached it a feeling of wrongness descended on the scene. Two sets of tire tracks led to the house. One approached the house and when it left it left the deep trenches of a car leaving at great speed. The other came at an even greater speed. Nearly peeling off the side of the road as it fishtailed to get into the short drive. These tracks ended at the car that made them, which had skidded to a halt not inches from the porch. The house door to hung open. It swung on its hinges the lock having been shot through. The windows were open despite the rain. The lamp in the living room was on. Despite having been knocked over. And as you approached you would have heard the sobs. They were the heaving unrestrained and went on, and on.  
If you had looked in you would have seen three figures. Two lay on a couch, on laying on the other. The figure on the top appearing to be the source of the sobs. The other slowly and gently rubbing its back. The third sat alone in an armchair. His elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. If you had waited a long time indeed, you would have heard the sobs slowly fade, and after that a voice. It was quiet and gentle. But just below the surface lay steel, cold and hard “Well I suppose we have a choice to make. Do we want to move heaven and earth, or just raise hell.” a second voice replied. This voice with the texture of one used softly and gently. And yet it was as if it was being stretched from within by a molten rage.  
“I think you will find that you have made a false dichotomy.” if you were magically inclined you would have had the sudden urge to run away very fast indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> As I was writing this I was listening to Caravan Palaces "Robot" album. Its all electro swingy and good for getting into the whole mob and mafia feel.


End file.
